Red

She wanted it. She was going to get it. It was only righteous. To deny someone of what they earnestly wanted, maybe even needed was sinful. It had to be. She was too pretty in white and those tights which hug those parts so close didn’t help. She eagerly sipped the mini glass of Kokoroko at intervals as if she had to maintain the redness of her lips already ripened by Sleek’s red. She wasn’t alone on that round little table where the window linked to the insides of the bar. Whoever made her laugh to her phone was doing a better job at making her night.
I’m not sure whether her laugh was growing louder or the numbness in my ears was wearing off. Who nudged me at the side?
“Chale you no go jam?” male laughter followed. “Make I buy more passion shots?!”
I lost sight of Red. Who was this guy? Oh, just Razz Kweku. Wait, that didn’t sound right. Razz Kweku is hardly generous. Trailing the elbow, it belonged to Ade. He was giving this white exchange student, heavy doses of his all-purpose ‘sharing-a-bed-with-you-tonight-or-nah’ vibes. From our chairs cozily placed close to each other on the bare road under the black sky, the plain conversations around me started to make sense again. Did I just space out or Red was real?
I checked. Oh yeah, she really wasn’t alone at the table. She had the stranger on the phone and two others—girls who couldn’t dim her shine. She glanced around. We shared the stare for the second. Those reds curled at one end in a smirk as she scanned the lively bustle. Leaving the glass of red on the table with the two straws sticky with Sleek, she meandered her curves through to the only path that leads out to the remaining half of the road not covered with furniture. The front of the Republic Bar and Grill. I was glad my seat partly blocked the path. Her lollipop-sweet smell hit my left cheek first and I wasn’t going to bend forward to allow the rest of her to slip behind me just yet. Not without gracing the back of my head with her softness. The perfect accident.
“Congratulations, Red, you played yourself!” I thought, even as she slowly squeezed between behind my low chair and that of whoever was behind me. I smiled. The perfume alluringly mysterious. I would be braver, turning around swiftly, ‘apologetically’, could mean my right cheek will be blessed as well. She skipped the rest of the way, I didn’t get to finish my thoughts. Walking along the road, heading towards Oxford Street in a saunter, and laughter into the once again handy phone, she was three steps away.
It was time to compete with the guy at the other end of the line. I couldn’t feel my hands but they helped me stand hard on my feet. “Owch! Ajei! Stop that, D—!“ I barely heard Ade finish that exclamation but I finished it with, “Chale I go call you, Ade! Stop talking about Ds” and a pat on his back, eyes still fixated on Red in sexy white, while I rose to my feet. The hot pursuit was on.
Almost out of earshot, I later recalled what seemed like Ade screaming at my stepping on his foot. White giggled with everything she had, it was a pretty sight from behind as if it merged perfectly with her strut. But then she still leaned on her left ear to that stranger’s voice. Closing the gap too quickly could take away points. The trick was to wait for the brief quiet down in the conversation and interject with the witty intro which would spark off the dialogue, totally pushing Mr PhoneCall into oblivion. This night was mine. This night was for the formidable Danso!